Dark Souls II: Olivia's Story
by Red Geist
Summary: A prelude story to the character I will be using in Dark Souls II. Spoiler Free. Follow the tale of a woman far from home conquer an unrelenting world of dark terrors and rally its oppressed populace under a banner of friendship and valor. Comments and critiques are greatly appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: By the time this first chapter is published, the Dark Souls II beta will just be made available to players. This means I'm writing this with only wild imaginings and reckless speculation as to the storyline of Dark Souls II. I wanted to write a tale that intertwines our world and the world of Dark Souls and its sequel, and create my own character from that story as my character in the game. Ha ha ha!

A crone in a red robe clamored down a winding path of steps that hugged the cliff. The great city of Lordran was visible on the horizon, and the titanic plateau, the bedrock of Anor Londo, touched the clouds. The winds swirled about the canyon; an omen of the great battle was taking place. The crone was sure. The Chosen Undead had fought his way to the last bastion of Lord Gwyn. At the Kiln of the First Flame they dueled. What were uncertain to others were the Chosen Undead's intentions. Having the council of both great serpents, Frampt and Kaathe, none knew what would become of the world. Would the Chosen Undead succeed Lord Gwyn and ignite the First Flame with his own essence, or let the Abyss come all the sooner?

The crone was sure. The Chosen Undead would become a martyr, and bring temporary salvation to a dying world. She hesitated to use the word dying. Darkness and corruption have a life all their own. However, she would now need a new beneficiary. If the darkness were to consume all, well that would ruin her fun. As a witch that had seen many ages of the world, any absolute power displeased her. She had been a friend to Ornstein, Gough, and even met the fabled Artorias on occasion, she grinned when she thought of the twisted fate that befell Gwyn's kingdom. Conflict entertained her. But now, with the Abyss left unchallenged or soon to be unchallenged by Lord Gwyn and the inevitably futile efforts of his successor, she needed someone new. Someone unexpected. Someone… not of this world.

The old witch approached a cave with a massive crystal orb at its center, time had eroded its surface, catastrophic mishaps of sorceries had broken it, but her presence made it glow still with energy. A familiar sped past the crone and danced atop the crystal orb, some sort of demented rat with three extra eyes. As the old witch approached, she could gaze into another world effortlessly, showing that the crystal still contained great power. She could see a beautiful young woman, perfect for her needs. She cackled. There was time yet, perhaps enough time for a bit of fun, at the young woman's expense of course.

September 27th, 2013  
New York City

The hour was late, and the sun was setting. Near the top of a beautiful skyscraper, lost in the sea of metal and glass that was Manhattan, an older gentleman in formal attire addressed a group of associates at the one of the many business firms that occupied space within the building.

"In conclusion, thanks to the new contract we've worked out with the city, Axios Industries is now poised to be the sole contractor working on the West End Restoration Project, which will yield us almost double the past year's earnings!" Everyone clapped as the short and thin man with a wrinkled face conveyed wonderful news to the group of people before him, "I know it's getting late, so I'm not gonna hold any of you here to celebrate. It's been a tough six months to get this contract, and I know all of you went the extra mile to make sure this happened. You guys and gals sure do make me proud. Now get outta here before you make me tear up!" Everyone laughed in response. As others began to separate, the businessman approached a tall woman with long legs, a comely body, and one of the most beautiful faces he had ever seen. She unlike the others had drifted off during the speech. He could see it in her eyes from the moment she came to this firm, he knew she was special. He could tell when someone had an imagination. When people drift and begin to daydream, he could see that special twinkle in their eyes. He had a child's fascination with that quality in people, and this woman before him was no exception.

"Dreaming of home, Ms. Adrianne?" He asked, looking up into her face, her skin colored like the dusk light of the sunset outside.

"Oh no sir, just tired. That's all. Congratulations on the contract."

"You don't get to play that trick on me, I can tell when you are daydreaming. Always have. Never let go of your imagination. It's the creative spark that keeps us human. Creativity. Ingenuity. Originality. That's what keeps us sane and healthy… You remember when you first came to this office? Must have been almost five years ago now."

"Yes, you told me everything a growing firm shouldn't." She smirked.

"Of course, I told you someone with your body could find easy work modeling for anyone in the city, and anyone with your brains could be making twenty times as much money working on Wall Street. Do you remember what I said after that?"

"That it is better to do good work that easy work?"

"Precisely!" He paused, " You have a gentle heart, and you are also blessed with beauty and good business sense. But never forget what makes you – Ms. Olivia Adrianne – you. We do good work here, we help out the people down there however we can. We build roads, sidewalks, and bridges. We fix buildings and homes, and everything in between. But to do our part as best we can, we need good people. Kind people. Creative people. People who have enough talent to think for themselves and want to help others. Never forget that you are kind and you are creative, and you will succeed in life."

"Are you okay sir?"

"Yes of course! Now off you go. Off to your boyfriend or fiancé or whatever. See you first thing Monday, and great job again!" Her boss whisked her off towards an elevator before retreating into the labyrinth of office cubicles on the main floor of the firm. Confused, she collected her belongings and found herself into one of the elevators with a few other coworkers.

"So is the boss okay?" Olivia asked her friends as the elevator began to speed up.

"That he's happier than usual? I'll take that over my old boss at the firm I used to work at. Dude was a ruthless fuck."

"Nobody heard the speech he gave me just now?"

"I kinda heard him getting teary eyed, what happened."

"He was talking about being unique and creative, he was getting really emotional."

"You mean none of you heard?" One man drew the attention of Olivia and the others immediately, "His only daughter was just in a bad car accident, she's in the hospital in a coma. He couldn't leave to see her because he wanted this contract to get set in stone."

"What? When did this happen?" Olivia asked, shocked by the news.

"Like five or six days ago. She lives in Philly, so I don't know why the boss couldn't drive down; I guess it worried him so much he wanted to stay focused on his work."

"Well we can only wish her the best. And it's not really our business anyway. Besides, you think he wants us to worry ourselves over his problems; he'd never forgive us, or live it down. Let's just all go home to our families, and enjoy this while we can, because come Monday it's back to work for all of us."

"Well, this is our stop, have a good weekend everyone!" Olivia waved as she parted ways with everyone else, as she did not possess a car like the rest of her coworkers. As they headed for the parking garage, she took to the street.

The evening air was calm and peaceful. It was not the shortest walk to her home, but the setting sun and the warm air made such exercise inviting, even in her expensive shoes. Finding the nearest crosswalk, she waited for the light to turn and marched along with the several dozen others across the street. When she first stepped onto the other street corner, something strange happened.

In the distance, every skyscraper and traffic light, every sign and every streetlamp, turned off.

The sun was still on the horizon, light would not fade for roughly another hour. Because of this, many did not notice the severity of the situation. The twenty three traffic lights that stopped working caused massive problems. Shocked at the sight, many did not know what to do. In no rush to remain in the crowd of panicked citizens, Olivia darted off; keeping the source of the blackout in her mind, for deep within that abyss was her home.

Her phone rang. Pulling it out of her purse, she found the caller to be her brother. As a supervisor at one of New York's many municipalities, she hoped he would have an answer for her. "Hey I'm here little brother."

"Olive, hey you okay?" He asked, deeply concerned.

"Yeah, I just got outta work. What the fuck is going on?"

"Heck if I know, I just got a call via cell phone from the Chief of Police, they've got no landlines and power is out from Greenwich Village to Central Park. I heard down the hall they think it was a terrorist attack but the people guarding the grid are calling us saying they can't find the problem. No sabotage, no damage, no nothing."

"What do you think happened?"

"What do I think happened? Could have been a fucking solar flare for all I know, but what I think isn't important."

"Johnny what do you think happened?" She asked more sternly this time.

"I think something really fucked up is going on. You've seen the papers these past few days. Subway tunnels crawling with weird creatures. People losing their minds out of the blue and going on rampages. Now this?"

"It's not the end of the world bro, calm down."

"Okay, but just in case, you think you can hike it to the municipal building? People might start rioting out there because we don't know how to turn the power back on. We've got guards and guns, so it's safe for now."

"Wait, what do you mean you don't know how to turn the power back on?" She screamed.

"Gotta go sis, please stay safe."

Cars were almost on top of one another across the city; without the traffic lights there could be no way to navigate the already maze-like streets. Turning to the subway tunnels, hoping the cars could still be working in the blackout, but she found scared citizens fleeing the lightless tunnels in droves, using smartphones as makeshift flashlights. Some of them looked disheveled, their clothes tattered and cut. She became worried when she saw two police officers came up the stairs with a larger group of people, both with blood smeared across their jackets.

"The subway is out of commission until further notice, with the power out we do not recommend anyone go down onto the platforms." The two men began to hold people back from the stairwell that led below into the dark. Dozens of people were angry and confused, and badgering the men with questions they could not answer. The city was thrown into chaos by the power outage, and unbeknownst to them the power would not come back anytime soon.

When Olivia asked the officers how they came to have blood on their coats, they shuddered. People all over were speaking of strange carnivorous creatures in the tunnels, breaking into subway cars, leaping out of the tunnels and onto the platforms, maiming and consuming as they went. She froze, initially thinking her brother was either reading the tabloids or just making things up when he spoke of weird things beneath the city.

With the underground cut off, Olivia positioned herself on the right street and began to walk. The thought of unknown things pattering about below gave her chills, and the streets were wrought with chaos and mayhem. Horrific screams echoes over the endless roar of car horns. Passing Zuccotti Park, she noticed doomsayers were attracting crowds of hundreds. Every minute that passed, the whole city seemed to steep itself further into madness.

As she walked, she contemplated the horrors around her. To her, the real world was where all the boring things happened. Stuff of fantasy and fiction was always separate from the real world. Nothing truly magical ever happened. So how, how could such terrible things be gripping the city so, terrible and unexplainable things? She began to dash towards the white spire in the distance, barely visible beyond the other buildings, but shining bright in her mind.

Crossing onto Nassau Street, she turned a corner only to be shoved into an alley by a man. His head was shaved, his skin a ghostly white. His most prominent feature was the unknown symbols he had cut into his own skin like one would carve into stone. Most of the characters were bleeding profusely, but the man didn't seem to care at all. Perhaps he even reveled at the pain. Cut in lines along his head and arms, the man had red smears about his person from wiping excess blood from the characters themselves, but more blood continued to run down his face and arms.

Grabbing her by the neck, he pinned her against the wall. "Thou who art undead art chosen, but art thou chosen, and thus undead? My master would have me prove it to her." He unsheathed a curved dagger of Middle Eastern origin, no doubt a well-kept antiquity or a fine replica. Olivia's eyes went wide. Unable to move, as the man's crushing grip was restricting the flow of oxygen to her body, she remained defiant. Grabbing for the man's hand as he attempted to thrust it into her chest, and for a few moments her inner strength kept the blade at bay, it was alas futile. She screamed as the knife slashed the inside of her hand and then slammed into the center of her chest. The blood flowed down her business clothes and onto the street. Overcome with terrible shock, and feeling her end near, her last thoughts allowed her to escape the dark and grim chaos of her situation.

She could feel the fragrant winds of the Mediterranean blowing upon her face, her grandfather's speedboat carrying them out from Venice to the Laguna Veneta. She got up upon the bow of the boat and held her arms out, her father desperate to keep her from falling off, her grandfather and younger brother laughing merrily as the father floundered about, while she danced upon the tip of the boat effortlessly. Though most of her early life was spent in America, Olivia had spent much time with her grandfather in Venice. She had such an appreciation of the colors and cultures of the world, and whenever she felt troubled or depressed, her thoughts took her to these wondrous places. She could taste the salt on the air. She could smell the fabulous foods that would fill the table for the evening feast. Was it all about to go away?

The unending pain reeled her back into the real world, where she found herself on her knees before the madman, having dropped her after dealing the death blow. She saw the gilded hilt of the knife sticking out from her torso, right in the center of her ribcage. Her heart burned as if on fire, while the rest of her body froze and went numb. It seemed like an eternity she knelt there, wondering when she would finally black out and pass on. That moment never came. The madman began to laugh, having come to a terrible epiphany. "I found her my queen. Ha ha ha ha ha! I found undead in a world without magic! Ha ha ha!"

Olivia clenched her fists and slowly looked up at the man, a look of indomitable fury upon her face. Pale from the severe blood loss, and perhaps her death altogether, she ripped the dagger from her chest and lunged at the man screaming. In a blur, she struck him five, ten, fifteen, twenty three times with the dagger in the blink of an eye. Now overtop the pulped mess of flesh that was her aggressor, the head was still intact, and laughing. Somehow it could still speak.

"Run from your future you cannot! This world will die or you will! Oh wait, you're already dead! Bwa ha ha!" She drove the knife one last time into his head, finally silencing her attacker.

Failing to understand how she was still alive, she began to weep. Blood has ceased to flow from the wound, yet she still felt deathly ill and weak. Despite her physical weakness, she refused to give up. She rose to her feet, and hobbled on towards the municipal building, leaving the dagger and the bloodied corpse behind. Had she looked back, she would have seen the body overtaken by a white light, and vanish into bright dust.

By the time she reached the municipal building, her soaked clothing made for a fine tool for dispersing the crowd, dozens parted before her in shock and fright. Her brother was waiting on the steps just behind a barricade of police officers in full riot gear. She was almost on her knees when her brother took her by the arms and helped her inside.

"What the fuck happened to you?"

"I think someone killed me… struck me dead. Why am I still awake?" She murmured.

"Stay with me sis. Medic! Doctor! Anyone!" She was carried inside by her brother and another officer. Someone near the door went looking for a doctor. Olivia was laid down on a bench near the entrance, where the long bulb powering the corridor light blinded her.

"How does this place still have power?" She whispered. Johnny clutched her hand and hovered over her, tears falling from his face onto her blood soaked jacket.

"Don't talk sis. The backup generator is working just fine." He was sobbing, he felt the life drained from her hand, it was icy cold and losing color. He tried to open her jacket to see her wound, and found the open cut in the center of her torso, but it drew no further blood.

"Light is too bright… So cold… but my chest – my heart – burns…" She lifted a hand to open her jacket. Just under her bra, a massive ring-shaped burn was taking shape over her left breast.

"When did that happen?" He screamed. "What is that?"

"That is the Darksign." A voice behind Johnny jerked his head back. Blocking the hallway, partially obscured in shadow, was a massive figure. It was an old woman, though utterly disproportioned by human standards. Her face was feet wide and almost as large as her body, wrinkles wrapped around her mouth and stretched from her massive eyes. Her nose stuck out feet from her body, and her hair was stringy, held up by a wide brim hat that was almost too wide for the corridor. "The Darksign signifies an accursed undead. Those branded with it are reborn after death, but will one day lose their mind and go hollow." Her voice was shrill, and echoed in the hallway.

"What are you?" He looked on in horror, now standing to protect his older sister.

"Step aside foolish boy. All that is wrong here is my doing, and it will continue until she is mine. All that you know will be at peace once again once I am allowed to leave with her… You would be wise to heed my request. There is no place for her here anymore, not until she breaks her own curse, and that will be a feat indeed, for none have yet done so where I come from."

"Foul witch of wild imaginings, be gone! You-you're not real! Stay back!"

"If I'm not real… then is she also alive?" Johnny looked back to his sickly sister, who he once revered for her immeasurable strength of heart and mind. "Her life blood is on some street miles from here. This proves she is cursed. That mark only brands her kind, but in time she will prune and become hollow. She'll look like a raisin! Oh how I love raisins!" She cackled.

"Ask her if… she can lift the curse." Olivia whispered.

"I can't lift the curse. Humans are helpless against curses, and can only redirect their influence. I am not here to remove your curse. I need you because you are cursed. Where I come from, you are needed. Come with me, and you shall not only learn how to live with your undeath, as hilarious as that is, but you shall also rid your home of the blights I have wrought upon it."

There was a pause.

"Time is short. Allow me to take you to my home, and your world will be as it was."

"Can you promise I will be able to return one day?"

"I promise nothing but death if you stay child. So make your choice."

"…Very well." She whispered one last time, "Brother. I will miss you so much. I'll try my best to come back."

"You come back! Don't you die on me! Father, Mother, Grandpa, none of us will let you! You are the strong one! You gotta survive for all of us!"

"Out of the way boy, or my sorceries will vaporize your soul!" The wide witch rushed forward, causing the space around her and Olivia to warp and swirl, eventually becoming ensconced in a black fog. By the time the veil of shadow lifted, all trace of his sister was gone, all except the small amounts of blood on his hands. When the officer returned with the doctor, they could only find a man weeping silently by the bench where she once was. Would he ever see her again?

"Fall down seven times, stand up eight. Such are the words of the undead. It's all about what breaks first, your willpower or the obstacles before you."

Olivia woke up tasting dirt in her mouth, finding herself flat on the ground. Looking up she could see the sun was veiled by pale clouds, and the world around her was arid and battered. There was no sign of the old witch, or anyone else. She turned over slowly. Her bones ached, her chest burned, and she could barely move, but she was alive. She coughed twice.

"What's that over there?" She heard the voice of a man sounded.

"It's a person! She's alive!" Another added.

"Approach carefully. The Old Witch loves her tricks, could be a hollow left as a trap to attack us."

"Don't look hollow to me. We should help her."

"That would be nice." Olivia replied loudly enough for the group of men to hear her.

"That's no hollow!" A younger voice called out.

"Let's take her back to town, let the Mayor decide her fate."

The younger man picked her up and began to carry her. They all wore medieval clothing, but time and war seemed to have worn and stained them, they all looked drained of color, even down to the bloodied bandages that looked to hold all of them together.

And so began her long journey. The Old Witch looked on from her cave, and laughed.


	2. Chapter 2

"Bring her over to the bonfire."

"Fire Keeper, wake up."

One man prodded the mass of flesh and cloth curled into a tight ball in the corner, while the other men helped Olivia over to what she saw as a small campfire with a rusted poker jutting out of its center. It felt oddly warm despite the flame flickering at its base was so small. She huddled near it as the others left, leaving the younger man by the massive thing in the corner.

"Oh?" somewhere along the snot-smeared flesh was a face, which looked vaguely peaceful, as if waking from a long slumber, "Is it tea time? I do love my tea." He said softly.

"No Fire Keeper, someone needs your help. Do you still have that Estus Flask?"

"Do I?" It rose to its feet clumsily, and then attempted to take up a fearsome stance. However, his rancid smell and disheveled, morbidly obese form was hardly intimidating, "I am a Fire Keeper, Bonfire made manifest! To ask me for an Estus is to ask a beautiful maid for a lock of her hair. There is always more where it came from!"

"That's an uncomfortable analogy, but hilarious." Olivia chuckled weakly, drawing the attention of the Fire Keeper.

The Fire Keeper was stunned. He hurried over to her aid, as quickly as his body could allow him. He lowered himself and pulled a potion bottle from a sack of things strapped his hunched back. Within was a tiny dancing flame. He removed the cork keeping the flame within and held it before Olivia's face.

"What is your name child?"

"Olivia, and I'm not a child."

"Too many under my watch have gone hollow. I'm as old as trees and the oceans, my dear. And as long as the forests have grown and the oceans have churned, I have seen brave men and women lose their sanity and turn to the darkness. Please, drink this and ensure you do not join them today."

"What is it?"

"If it could be explained easily, it wouldn't be called something silly like an Estus Flask. Come Olivia, it will make you feel better at the very least."

She lifted her head from the ground and sat up, grabbing the emerald bottle with both hands, she gulped down. It was not entirely liquid in taste; it was truly a unique experience. However, she could feel the warmth immediately return to her limbs. The burning feeling around the Darksign faded, and she was now perky, alert, and healthy.

"Where did you come from?" The younger man asked. He wore the attire similar to a ranger. Mostly leather armors with a steel breastplate and pauldrons, a dirtied teal coat ran down to his knees. A longsword was held in an ornate sheath. Fine brown leather with gold filigree and assorted gemstones, but some of the slots were empty, and the filigree chipped or worn away in some places. Over his left eye was a dried bandage, perhaps the only thing he could use as an eye patch. He wore a blond beard that came to a point on his well sculpted chin. Olivia couldn't help but find him a touch attractive.

"You may not believe me, but I'm not from this world. A wicked witch took me from my home and put me here." She handed the flask back to the Fire Keeper.

"Was she as wide as a barn, eyes round like boulders, long nose, tends to cackle?" The Fire Keeper asked.

"Yes. She was so odd she took up a whole hallway, head and all. How can she even move like that? Her head was like the same size as her body."

"That would be Old Witch Hortense. Vile woman. Constantly drumming up trouble for us. We're far enough from Lordran, can't she leave us alone?"

"Apparently she's not content to meddle in our own affairs; she has to have her fingers in other worlds to amuse herself." The ranger spat at the vile machinations of the old woman.

"Wait, what is your world like? Are there other undead?" The Fire Keeper inquired.

"No, I've never heard or seen of any of this. This whole interdimensional sorcery, undead people, and fire potions are new to me." She replied.

"But that's impossible. The Darksign marks all undead and all undead are descendants of the Furtive Pygmy, or so the legends go." The Fire Keeper looked back up at the ranger.

"We are used to phantoms slipping between worlds. The idea that the Old Witch stole you from your world and placed you here is by no means implausible. But you mean to tell us that where you come from, there is no magic, no undead, no gods?"

"Well, most people where I come from believe in one god, but who that god is exactly is a point of contention between cultures. Where I come from, mankind has no fear of monsters, demons, or magic. And we never have. It's all imagination and fiction where I come from."

"What a wonderful place it must be." The ranger smiled.

"What makes this world so terrible that you would fear magic and monsters?"

The Fire Keeper sighed, lifting his bulk up with some difficulty, "Let my friend Bertrand show you around town, that should give you a better idea of what life is like around here. If you ever require rest that a bed cannot provide, come see me. That is after all, what the bonfire is for." He bowed slightly, being careful to not fall over, and retreated into the corner. Olivia rose to her feet and began to walk with the ranger Bertrand.

"With luck, we'll be able to find you a change of clothes and someplace to live. Enough of the empty homes should have plenty of both." Bertrand walked with the young woman from the sun bleached stone building outside into the town square. Olivia was shocked at what she saw.

Perhaps once this place was a gorgeous coastal village, but time and lack of maintenance had turned the town into a stagnant and dilapidated husk of its former self. Looking up the main road she could see a winding path that led up to a small fort with a bone white tower and a rounded crimson roof. Most of the empty shacks were falling apart or entirely collapsed in piles of splintered wood and tin shingles. The standing buildings were brick and mortar, or wood and covered in a sort of plaster, but all of the paint was faded. All of the color was gone. What she imagined the town was once like reminded her so much of Sicily or Sardinia, but what it looked like now brought tears to her eyes.

"Thousands of years ago, we humans lived at the beck and call of great and terrible gods. As their power began to fade, darkness took its place, an abyss. Without the power of the Ancient Lords, the human lands were broken one by one, either from within by the curse of the undead, or from without by the armies of shadow. You were lucky to find one of the last bastions of human life on this world, but even we are broken. There aren't enough of us to maintain this town, yet we stay. Perhaps we are mad to stay, but we would all surely die alone out there."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" She asked in reply.

"This world is beyond help. Word is that the Chosen Undead sacrificed himself to succeed Lord Gwyn and continue the Age of Fire, but one day the flames will fade, and only Dark will remain."

Something in Olivia's heart wanted to disbelieve the man's words, and as an outsider she couldn't help but feel people like him had given up without really trying. She couldn't know of the way the world worked here. She wanted to try anyway. She wanted to give him a reason to hope. "One of the men said my fate would be decided by the Mayor? May I speak with him?"

"After you get situated, and out of that ridiculous outfit."

"I'll have you know this is a business suit where I come from." She retorted.

"Does it come with the bloodstain and the knife wound standard?" He caused her to chuckle, "Here we are, this should do." They approached a two story building, mostly brick and mortar, and in an old English type the sign read, 'TREASURER – MONEY LENDER – ARCHIVIST'.

The front door had been smashed long ago, and sat within the long frame in a heap of wood. She kicked the splintered planks aside and walked in, Bertrand following. On the main floor was a long hardwood countertop which itself was largely undamaged, but coated in a thick layer of dust and debris. Behind the table were five tall bookcases arranged in a semicircle, filled to the brim with musty tomes. To the left of the table and bookshelves was a wide spiraling staircase that wound up onto the second floor.

"Long ago when man still used coins for currency instead of souls, a very cunning and shrewd fellow lived here. He would have enjoyed seeing someone of his skillset make use of this place after he went hollow. You'll find clothes upstairs; I hope you find them to your liking."

"Actually, where can I get something like what you are wearing?"

Bertrand smiled.

"Luchesi, you have a customer!" Bertrand barged into a shack on the edge of town, overlooking the water. Outside, suits of armor and fine robes were strung up on poorly made racks and stands. It was clear he hadn't the intentions of making his wears look presentable. However, the works themselves were absolutely flawless.

"Not falling for that one again Bertrand and hello to you too." A somewhat eloquent voice sounded from the back of the shop. Walking out from behind a wall, the man revealed himself. He was a burly man with a muscular physique, bushy eyebrows on a stern brow, a bald head, a fine beard, and a great mustache.

"Luchesi Medici, finest armorer and tailor east of Berenike." Bertrand noted to Olivia, "His perfectionism leaves him with few customers."

"What work can ever be called finished if it still requires improvement?" He asked, "Oh my dear, I am terribly sorry where are my manners?" Luchesi walked over to Olivia and took her hand and lightly kissed it, bowing. She blushed, not used to such fine treatment. "What a curse it is that a beautiful woman such as yourself be marked as undead, oh and your clothes! What can I fetch for you this day? Bodice and gown? Sorcerer's robes? Choice of armors? I am at your disposal, if it allows me to complement your ravishing beauty with my services!" The eccentric man opened panels and false walls, revealing racks of clothing, leather, chainmail, and plate armors, and even the occasional weapon rack.

"You certainly go to great lengths to keep your wares from being exposed to the air." She noted how none of the clothing was faded or dirtied, and made with the most remarkable attention to detail.

"Precisely my dear! Oh finally Bertrand you found someone who appreciates the ends I go to in order to ensure the highest quality of my work! Whatever you want free of charge! Please indulge thyself!"

"I'll be outside. Let me know when you are finished." Bertrand stated.

"Oh you'll know my good man, now leave this heavenly dear to her business! There's work to be done!" Absolutely overcome with jubilation, he began to work with the very overwhelmed Olivia. Bertrand smirked at her stupefied expression and wide eyes as the smith jumped around, tinkering with armor, hammering mallet to leather, all the while Olivia slowly went through his collection.

"Ah, so you favor the outfit of a rogue? An excellent choice of attire. Though this world is filled with demons and monsters of terrible power, a knight's armor can only block so much damage, the same with his shield. Why try to take a hit when you can evade? Why put so much effort into a frontal assault when one can dash about the battlefield and wait for the perfect opportunity to exploit an opponent's weaknesses? Despite the reputation of such characters, I do love crafting medium armor, perfect balance of cloth, leather, and metal. Shall I cobble together something along those lines for you?"

"I'd much appreciate it, even though I've never used a sword before. Not sure this suit will ever see battle."

"Oh my dear friend Bertrand and his rambunctious associates can help you in that department. Maybe even the Mayor if you are lucky enough to gain access to his tutelage. One moment my dear!" He darted about, taking pieces from previously separate armor sets and began to work them together with mixed results, "Oh no no no, that won't do!"

Olivia looked on and giggled.

"Oh yes! Yes! That's perfect! Here, try this on, I have a feeling you'll like it!"

Taking a few steps out from a side passage where she changed out of her bloodstained old clothes into this new attire, undergarments and all, she froze before the mirror. Entirely gripped by awe, her jaw dropped, even the eccentric Luchesi was silent.

Fastened to her breast was a bright silver plate that conformed to her physique, with leather straps stretching horizontally along her abdomen, spaced out just enough to allow for unencumbered movement. The silver breastplate shimmered even in the gloomy daylight, and had an embossed trim of a looping lace pattern etched into it. She had a belt lined with many packs and a small satchel, and chose somewhat fashionable pantaloons. From the knees down she wore armored kneecap guards and greaves, partially covering reinforced leather boots, again detailed with a flare of fashion. Over her dark undershirt and torso armor was a gold hemmed leather coat dyed a navy blue. She folded down the high collar to allow for her black hair to flow freely behind the coat, and she rolled up the sleeves to above the elbows to let her gauntlets be visible. Over the coat's upper arms were a set of shoulder guards, supported by segmented plates that rand down to just above the coiled sleeves. On her forearms she wore conforming metal gauntlets and elbow guards, as well as a knight's hand guards to provide maximum protection to her hands. She struck a powerful pose, causing Luchesi to clap. Bertrand walked in, while he was amazed his face was largely unchanged from its usual dour grimace, but he did let out a thin smile.

"You'd pass for one of my men, that's for sure. Hopefully you take to swordplay as you do to dressing like one."

"Will I really have to fight?"

"If you didn't want to fight, you would have stayed at the bonfire."

"Fair enough." She nodded, "Now where is this mayor?"

Bertrand led Olivia through the heart of town, up a winding path littered with dirt, debris, and bones. The handful of townsfolk were perplexed, staring at the new arrival with equal parts wonder and distrust. As they walked towards the fort, the air became eerily still, more so than usual. The fort was barred by a single wooden door reinforced with three iron bars across its length. Bertrand turned the knob and let Olivia in.

The main room of the fort was built like a small cathedral, complete with a vaulted ceiling and gothic arches. Within were a handful of guards doing no particular task, some were even dozing off. One man was near the back of the room, staring out onto the quiet sea. He wore a long chainmail coat, charred by fire and worn by many battles. Segmented iron plates protected his chest and thighs, and he wore thick gauntlets and greaves. He was balding, and wore a short beard like Bertrand. He turned as Olivia approached him.

"Dusk colored skin, unscarred, and unmarked by any brand of any land save the Darksign. Tell me how well do you speak?" His gaze remained transfixed on the motionless ocean.

"I speak… well?"

"What separates us from the demons, the barbarians, and the hollow is language. Any sane man or woman can find sensual and sensuous pleasure in the act of speaking. Sadly, desperately sadly, our world is beset on all sides by invaders, monsters and perpetual darkness. When all must learn to fight for survival on a moment to moment basis, when does one have time to speak? When does one have time to be pedantic or precise when the abyss surrounds and devours the last pitiful remains of civilization? I must hold my tongue at split infinitives and mispronunciations, for the abyss has seen to the collapse of all that I held my people to stand for. We are all undead. We do not need to eat. We do not need to drink or sleep. We are frozen in time, no blade can slay us and no hammer can stamp us out, but we are all dead. Going hollow is not quick. It is the slow decay of one's willpower. Stagnation breeds this disease. That is why the abyss has not touched this place. Why try to kill an enemy that cannot die when you can leave them alone and force them to rot away from the inside out instead?" He turned and swiftly marched toward Olivia, staring her down with a furious stare but with a stony expression, "You are an outsider, armed for war and yet not trained for it, what good are you to my dream of restoring what was lost when you cannot even hold a sword?"

She was taken aback by his master of elocution and language, "I am stranded here by what your men called the Old Witch. How I became cursed is unknown, but I am cursed and I am stranded here. I want to do whatever it takes to be free of the curse and go home."

"You have a goal and yet no means, means that I may yet be able to provide if my town were healthy. It might as well be as hollow as the creatures that write and squirm across the countryside. I have a proposition. Fix my town, and you will have support in your quest to be free of the curse and venture home. There is but one word of warning."

"Yes?"

"None have freed themselves of the curse of undeath. Curses can only be passed to another, and no Purging Stone can free you of the Darksign. Be warned that no matter how far you travel in this world or the next, you may never be free of the curse. But, I do wish you luck."

Olivia bowed, and moved to the door. Bertrand followed.

"I didn't expect that. He usually doesn't speak much. That's a good sign, I think." Bertrand slowed his speech as he watched Olivia walk over to the front gate to the fort, which had been blocked by great debris and gone unused for several years if not decades. She began to move a massive plank of wood and tossed it down. Dust flew everywhere and pieces of rubble slid down the stone steps, catching the attention of the townsfolk, achieving her goal. She stepped down to speak to all of them with a great and bold bellow, "In case you don't know who I am, my name is Olivia Adrianne. I'm the town's new treasurer, and self-appointed building planner! As a new resident, I refuse to live in a shantytown that can at any time fall prey to monsters or wallows in self-pity until it goes hollow. I'm going to make this town look like a fucking masterpiece on the Mediterranean, and I'm not about to do it single-handedly. So who's with me?"

The townspeople were as unmoved as they were before she made her speech. There was a long silence, and then a thumping of heavy footsteps sounded, almost echoing between the buildings.

The bulky Fire Keeper hobbled along, sweating from the exertion, but undeterred. He lifted the massive plank that had been thrown on the stairs by Olivia, "What do you want done with this?" He asked between heavy breaths.

"Put the debris in that warehouse. Once we clear out all the streets we can sort through the crap and see what we can salvage. If you find a broom let me know." As Olivia and the Fire Keeper cleared the main gate of debris, Bertrand joined in, carrying planks and sundered metal into the tall warehouse for deposit. Back and forth the three of them went, trying to tidy up the ruins as best they could. "I'll need a stonemason, a painter, and a lumberman. We should tear down the empty buildings and turn them into farm plots or newer facilities. If there is a quarry nearby we can get the materials there to rebuild the fortress and the ruined stone buildings." She went on about the necessary tasks needed in restoring the town, yet still the townsfolk remained passive.

Soon the men in Bertrand's service joined in, looking to him for guidance, who pointed to Olivia, "Well don't just stand there! There's enough room in that warehouse for all the debris in sight. Shove it all in there, and then sweep up what's left. Come on, move it!" Her fury put some pep in their step, and they hurried into an alley and began cleaning.

Eventually, a short old man moved over to his neighbor's house which had been abandoned for many years, and began sweeping the dust and dirt from the stone paths. As more time passed, more townsfolk joined in, and began to clean the town. The mayor looked on from his windows, and smiled.

Far from the edge of town, a dark figure looked on, clad in the visage of terrible bones.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: I didn't know the website wasn't processing the text characters I use to create breaks between certain paragraphs, I will experiment and edit previous chapters accordingly when I find something that works.

It is also worth noting that how characters go hollow has changed in Dark Souls II to better fit the lore. Every time you die, you lose a piece of your maximum HP, and this is cumulative with each death until one reaches half of their maximum HP. This can only be restored by returning to human form. Also, it has been inferred that one does not immediately look like a human raisin immediately after one's first death. Keep this in mind as my tale progresses. Anyway, back to the story.

The door to the Treasurer's office knocked twice. Olivia had it fashioned by one of her neighbors from planks of debris; he had furnished it in such a way that made it look seamless and pristine.

"Come in." She called out, standing over the long table, combing over maps and notes. She had taken to scribbling down items of importance with a quill and inkwell, a lucky find in her rummaging upstairs.

The mayor entered, carrying several scrolls in the crook of his left arm. "As promised, here are the topographical maps of the surrounding coastline, the ruins south of here, and the pathways through the eastern forest and quarry." He laid out the scrolls and placed stones at their corners to hold them outright. "May I sit?"

"Of course." As Olivia took a seat in the comfortable wooden chairs, she parted her coattails, something she was slowly getting used to doing. She was most certainly growing accustomed to her new attire and home. The mayor reclined slightly she began to converse with him regarding the town's progress, "After speaking to most of the townspeople, I've created a list of matters that need most dire attention."

"And they are?"

"We will need stone and metal to replace ruined buildings, and to repair the walls that are salvageable. We will need a fresh supply of lumber to effectively replace much of the town's wooden structures and tools. We will need paint and dyes to recolor clothing and banners, as well as paint for the buildings."

"Why is the last one so important?"

"I don't know, maybe it's a girl thing. Maybe it's something from my world. Would you rather run a town that was washed out and grim looking, or one brimming with eye catching vibrant colors? I've been told settlements like this are rare in this age of fire and darkness. Why not prove your defiance by not only having a living and thriving town but also a colorful one?"

"You make a good point." The Mayor stood up and flipped through the maps as Olivia observed, "We are here. The town sits on a rather tall cliff, so access to the shoreline is not easily accessible. If you follow this pathway west, you will reach an access point to the shore; there you will find large snails that secrete a substance we use for dyes and paints."

Olivia looked at her clothes and coat and shivered, "I'm wearing snail mucus?" She squirmed.

"It used to be easier to obtain plant-made dyes from the forest east of here. But then the Rock Trolls began to expand their territory."

"What?"

"I'll get to them in a moment. Worse yet for our dye issue, there is a great hydra that lurks in the waters just offshore. We will need to kill it first before we can collect the snail secretions."

"Terrific. Now tell me about the east."

"East of here is a small forest, nothing of true import in there, but it leads into a quarry which we used to mine for rock and metals, iron and steel mainly, no precious gems, but our troubles began when trolls born of the stone came to life and pushed our people out. They used to just keep to the quarry; it was only a few decades ago that they started to move in on the forest."

"How many are there?"

"Can't be more than twenty, but they're bloody unstoppable. Maybe if we had enough soldiers to take them head on, but we have enough trouble with that Darkwraith."

"I heard about him from a few of the residents, tell me more." Olivia pulled out a map of the southern ruins while the Mayor spoke.

"Darkwraiths are members of a covenant that forward the machinations of the abyss, and its architect a serpent by the name of Kaathe. Kaathe teaches every Darkwraith the art of life drain, but not all take to the power well. Failed Darkwraiths are shunned by Kaathe and his order, yet they still live to terrorize and control."

"So they are nothing but a few failed cultists that happen to be great at swordplay?"

"Precisely. To sum it all up, we are in a bind. Are you sure you are up to the tasks?"

"I won't be able to do them alone of course. Can Bertrand and his men be of service?"

"But of course. Speaking of which, aren't you going to be late for your first swordplay lesson?"

Olivia looked at the old fashioned clock with a weighted pendulum swinging below its fine gold cogs whirring in unison, "And I thought undead had no need to keep time." As she stood up the mayor did as well, he saw her to the door with the most gentlemanly etiquette.

"Good day and good luck Ms. Adrianne."

"Good day Mr. Mayor." She winked at him and spoke in a fanciful and playful tone as she passed him through the doorway and into town. He followed and shut the door behind him, but chose a different path.

The sword hammered down in a flurry of sound and light, forcing Olivia to duck and roll to evade every swift swing, but the amount of breathing room she had between her and the blade was suffocating, and was catching up with her limber form with each swing. Bertrand's lieutenant, an older gentleman clad in a knight's armor, let his sword dance across the air with lethal grace. Olivia had spent most of the sparring session evading his attacks by way of rolling and sidestepping blows. It was only after several minutes she gained enough sense to find an opening. As the knight swung his sword down, Olivia gripped the edge of the blade in her hand, protected from any injury by her gauntlets. She swiftly aligned her longsword with the center of the man's neck. Moving away would cause him to drop his sword, and any other move would have him killed. But she did not beat him.

"You are improving, a few practice swings and you can already parry and riposte." The knight said, just before he pulled his sword away, subsequently beating her weapon away from his neck and checking her with his shoulder, shoving her down to the ground, "It is a good start. You have promise."

As he walked away, Bertrand pulled Olivia to her feet, "Not bad for a first lesson. Just don't let Marcus' callous attitude get to you."

"So what do I need to do to get better?"

"Swordplay is not a business transaction. You cannot easily master it; you cannot force it to work. It is the art of dealing death to one's foe."

"What are you getting at?"

"Your attacks were too direct. As soon as you let Marcus gain the upper hand in the battle, he beat you back until you had the courage to find an opening in his attacks. Out there you will die, many times. You are cursed with the ability to take this gruesome punishment and survive. As a warrior it is your duty to use your deaths to teach you how to improve your martial skill."

"You make battle sound like a massive trial-and-error process."

"That's what I hold to be true. What fear need you have if you can outlast any enemy on this world?"

Olivia bowed to Bertrand, holding one clenched fist against her open palm, "Thank you for this insightful first lesson, I will take your advice to heart. Now if you excuse me, I have other business to attend to."

Sneaking into the gutted barracks that Bertrand and his men visited on occasion, Olivia swapped out the practice sword she once carried for a finely forged thin longsword. It shined with silver light in the gloomy air, and had a seashell shaped pommel. Not comfortable to dual-wield a sword in each hand, she grabbed for a Kris dagger instead. She then began to stroll out of town, every so often taking a gander at the map in her hand. Her intent unclear, and all but unnoticed by all save the worrisome Fire Keeper, she disappeared into the moors.

Olivia had her sights set on the haunted ruin before her. It may have been a quaint sight at one point, but time and war had eroded its walls and towers. What puzzled her further was why anyone would place a castle in the center of a windblown moor. It was too far to serve as a fortification for the main town, which already had its own walls and battlements, and it was too large to serve any minute purpose. Perhaps it was once the villa of some minor nobleman, whose only land was the lifeless grassy hills that stretched for miles in every direction save the north.

She readied her weapons and approached the main gate with caution, noting the utter blackness between her and the inner courtyard at the end of the tunnel. Storm clouds roiled above, and a thunderclap echoed across the foothills.

She took a deep breath and plunged into the tunnel. Immediately she was met by two shadowy figures with glowing red eyes. Charging into the light toward her, she could see two zombie soldiers, hollowed men by all accounts. She leaped forward and spun on an angle, cutting into one warrior's torso with the dagger, rending its already shambling armor. The follow up in her leaping spin was the bite of her longsword, which further cut into the same wound and almost split the man in two. It let out a grumble and faded into dust. The second soldier jumped at her, but she easily dodged. Swinging up and around, she cut into the hollow's arm and pinned it down, ending its existence with her knife stabbing into its bottom jaw.

Lifting herself from the ground, Olivia couldn't help but feel gratified after her successful first encounter with hollow men, thinking of her first combat experience with confidence. Marching onward with a degree of caution, she noted another thunderclap and rain began to fall just beyond the gateway. As she came to a halt at the end of the tunnel, she looked around for enemies. Suddenly, several stabbing rapier blows reached out toward her. Olivia dashed back. A hollowed knight of Balder came into view, its tattered red cape drenched by the rain. Pulling its black metal tower shield close to its body, it held the rapier up in a guarded stance towards her. Olivia analyzed the situation, and found an opening. She swooped in from underneath its guard, and used her sword to impale the knight's sword hand. Lifting the arm away from its torso, she took her knife and stabbed swiftly. Roaring in pain, it took its shield and bashed her against the wall, and proceeded to stomp on her twice, and finally took its rapier and plunged its needle-like blade into her abdomen before jumping away. Stumbling up, she charged recklessly again, forcing herself onto the knight's shield, almost hanging on the taller and weightier man. Screaming, she plunged her sword into the pruned and rotting flesh of the hollow man, watching the blade stretch all the way out of the back of its head. Letting out a silly moan, it fell to its knees and faded into dust. As she got to her feet, she spat on the pile of ash where the knight once stood, and then she began to cough painfully. Shocked, she held her armored hand to her mouth and pulled away bright red blood. It began to slide down the metal of her gauntlets. Not used to seeing such things, she almost forgot it was her own blood, and then she remembered she was stabbed clean through the stomach.

Clutching the deceptively tiny wound in agony, she leaned against the edge of the archway and held her chest, trying to contain the blood. Olivia wished she had one of those fire potions the Fire Keeper had given her when she first arrived, and cursed herself when she couldn't remember their name. The rain fell harder still. The sound of it beating against the stone around her was almost deafening. Coming to grips with the pain, Olivia found herself able to stand. Taking a few steps into the pouring rain, she could see the blood run with the water. For some reason the bleeding had stopped, despite the grievous wound.

The inner courtyard gave a great vantage point of the moors in every direction, for the floor above consisted entirely of the battlements and parapets. Traversing into the courtyard with caution and weapons at the ready, she could only find one more enemy. Perched under a ruined archway, beneath a solitary lantern, a grim man clad in the armor of bones stooped like a gargoyle. His hair was long, black, and oily. His body limber, but his true form was hidden under the sculpted black plates and bones that conformed to his body. His skull mask was transfixed on her, and Olivia was at once terrified and excited. Keeping her back to the left wall, she ascended the wide stone steps that led up to the battlements. The fiendish figure did not move, save for his head, that remained locked on Olivia. Light flashed across the moors, and more thunderclaps sounded, but these were now in the distance and not as loud. The rain lightened slightly, enough for her to converse with the man. Or rather, it addressed her first.

"You are not of the town. I expected Bertrand or one of his men, or maybe Mayor Bronn. You are a new face, one mostly unhollowed. Are you the latest toy of that Old Witch?" It asked its question with a slithering and soft tongue.

"So well acquainted with your prey, coward?" She retorted strongly.

"I used to live amongst them, in another time, in a bygone age. Undeath has done little to change any of them. They are just as bitter and distrustful as they were in life centuries ago."

"Placing blame on others is no way to justify your own diabolical actions." She drew closer, now standing across from the man on the opposite parapet. Her two weapons were brought into a guarded stance, but still the man remained a statue.

"Wise words are as ancient and forgotten as the men who once spoke them. I saw the abyss coming. I wanted to fight for the side that fights for humanity."

"So you joined the darkness, and helped it spread. But you couldn't become a proper member of the order, could you? I hear every Darkwraith has to master the art of life drain before they can truly join the covenant. What happens when they can't? Do they mope about and prey on simple folk like ordinary bandits? I'm pretty sure that's what you are. A bandit who wears the badge of an order he could never join, and all it's doing is satisfying a deluded fantasy of yours."

"You know nothing of my struggle!" The Darkwraith went from his stooped form to leaping at her in a single blurred motion. She barely dodged his sword, and had enough time to notice his blade was utterly ravaged by time and poor maintenance. The metal was corroded and severely damaged by deep clefts and cuts. Putting strength into her initial swing, Olivia brought down her blade and cut into his right arm. He stumbled, but only for a moment. He whipped his arm up, causing her to fall back momentarily. As he readied another swing, she countered and their blades met with a great clanging sound. Suddenly, the Darkwraith beat her weapons down with a sweeping motion and checked her down the steps behind her. With her whole body soaked to the bone, and already beaten and bloodied, she could barely move. The man pulled a knife and picked Olivia up, holding her uncomfortably close to him. He faced her towards the ledge and whispered into her left ear, "I haven't been with a woman in centuries, and in all my years I've never seen one as beautiful as you. I would rape you… if I didn't get off on killing you instead." He slit her throat violently with the sinister dagger, "Come back when you know how to use a sword. I do not suffer amateurs." He held her head back to open the wound as much as possible, Olivia almost immediately blacked out from the pain. She remembered a numb feeling overtaking her vision as he let her fall and land in the muddy inner courtyard, and then nothing.

She awoke at the bonfire and felt her neck frantically, only to find no wound. She crawled into a ball and began to sob. The Fire Keeper, alarmed, hurried over to her and began to comfort her. He could see how sickly she looked, she was almost hollow.


End file.
